


All Wrapped Up

by MsScratch1313



Series: High Rollers Universe [1]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: I might make a couple more short fics I really like where it was going actually, I wrote this while having a mental breakdown I don't even know, mob!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 04:57:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12623732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsScratch1313/pseuds/MsScratch1313
Summary: Dean wonders if Nevada would make good mummies.





	All Wrapped Up

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd and un-spellchecked bc I'm lazy  
> I am love Dean Ambrose, that is all

Mummies are made in deserts, Dean knows that much. He’s seen some cool History Channel documentaries in his spare time. Back in Ancient Egypt they’d painstakingly remove the organs, wrap up their kings and queens, and leave them for the desert to claim. Leathery skin and bone and teeth remaining for some archeologist to stumble on thousands of years later.

Dean wonders if Nevada would make good mummies. 

He thought about it, letting his thoughts wander, ignoring the sweat and the sand as he adds another few inches to the hole. The night is quiet this far out, the only sounds he hears is the rhythm of the shovel parting the dirt again and again.

Mummies would be cool looking, Dean thinks. Impractical and absurd, but that’s more his style anyway. He doesn't know if he’d have enough patience to remove organs, however. How would he even get the brains out? Dean remembers reading that the Egyptians pulled them out through their noses. 

Talk about sneezing your brains out.

(He’d once stuck a straw up his nose at a Denny’s, claiming to want to mummify himself. Roman laughed. Roman laughs at all his stupid jokes.)

Dean doubts he’d have the patience to remove organs, but it might be fun to get the full effect. Come the next sucker ‘Nee wants sniped, he’ll see about gutting them on top of the missing brain matter. Wrap ‘em up like a Christmas present and leave them under the treeless landscape. Skip putting the fear of God and jump right to putting the fear of Osiris into the poor son of a bitch who’d discover it someday.

Be real funny if they found it long after. Maybe they’d try to put it in a museum. Give whatever dirty laundry the Rollers had him deal with the old King Tut treatment. Be a riot when they found old loose-tongued Tony missing a few molars and wrapped up like a pharaoh somewhere out in the Great Basin.

The loud buzz of his cell phone made Dean pause in his digging, planting the shovel into the ground and hastily wiping his palms on his jeans while searching his pockets for the damn thing.

“What?” he answered, not bothering to check the ID.

“Bed’s cold. Got tired of me already?”

“Tired of you?” Dean grinned, shifting the phone to rest between his ear and his shoulder, so he could grab his shovel and climb out of the pit he’d dug. “No nay never, darlin’.”

“I'll hold you to it,” Renee said. Dean could picture her eye rolling, a smile on her face betraying how she really felt. “What are you up to?”

“A certain someone bailed on clean-up again, so I'm out sightseeing with a shovel,” Dean spat, dropping the gate and dragging the cover off the pickup’s bed.

“Ellsworth ditched again?” Renee asked, her voice gaining a bit of an edge.

“Yeah he’s been hanging around that Carmella chick like a love sick puppy,” Dean sneered, dragging the tarp until it slid out the back and dumped the cargo into the sand. “You’d think he’d know better, going after a princess while taking orders from the queen.”

“You’d think he’d know better than to no-show the one job we trust him to do,” Renee sighed. “And keeping the queen from her king.”

“I'm more of a jester doll, you flatter me,” Dean joked, sliding the tarp across the sand until the corpse rolled into the grave he’d made, face down. The back of it’s head was a mess. A bullet to the brain again? Man, Roman was no fun these days. Dean made a note to cap the next SOB he and Rome were sent in to deal with, just to screw with the Big Dog.

“Either way,” Renee said, “Your queen requests your presence ASAP. She demands cuddles, the dog included.”

“Alright, alright,” Dean grumbled good naturedly, folding the tarp back into the truck bed. “Let me finish dealing with whatever screwball tried messing with you last and I'll be home soon. Also, next time, I'm thinking mummies.”

“Mummies?” Renee laughed, confused by the suggestion.

“Yeah,” Dean smiled, grabbing the shovel again. “That way if someone ever finds your enemies out here, they’d end up in a museum.”

Renee laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

“Come home safe, baby,” she whispered, trying to compose herself. 

“Always do,” he whispered back, ending the call and tossing the first shovel of dirt and sand back into the grave.

If it meant being able to come home to her every night, Dean would fill this desert with enough mummies to put Egypt to shame.

**Author's Note:**

> I remember reading a fic with a similar AU in terms of who's doing what (Renee as a mob boss and Deano as a hitman) if you're that author, hit me up I want to credit you in the very least
> 
> Edit: I realized I jumped tenses in this I was pogo-sticking and I apologize


End file.
